Welcome To Winter
by Hades Lord of the Dead
Summary: December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness 2013 prompt responses. NOW COMPLETE. Happy 2014 everyone!
1. Chapter 1

**Dec 1:**

_From KnightFury - __cold hands, warm heart_

I was jolted into wakefulness by a cold touch upon my cheek, gone as quickly as it was there. My eyes fluttered briefly open, but it was too bright, and they closed again with a groan.

"Watson?"

I winced at the voice, and then shuddered as the cold fingers returned, this time resting on my forehead.

"Your hands are deucedly cold Holmes," I muttered, eyes still stubbornly shut tight.

He tutted from somewhere above me, but his hand remained where it was. "So long as it keeps you from drifting off again old fellow. I don't suppose you could open your eyes for me? Just until help arrives."

I forced my eyes open, but my vision blurred and nausea roiled in my stomach, the light around us (sunlight? Lamplight?) twisting and changing in unnatural, disturbing ways and making my head pound. Something shifted around me and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Easy Watson," Holmes murmured softly - his voice was much closer than before. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulder, and though the hand on my arm sent goosebumps all the way to my shoulder, the body I leant against was pleasantly comfortable.

"You are rather less boney than I imagined you would be Holmes," I declared and a loud, pleasant chuckle sounded in my ears, which confused me. "Holmes?"

"Nothing Watson - I am merely glad that you consider me such a good pillow. I must thank you for your kind compliment."

"You're welcome," I murmured drowsily. Through his overcoat I could just about feel the soft thumps of his heartbeat, and the steady sound was slowly lulling me into slumber.

"Watson!" Holmes's sharp voice commanded. A cold hand gripped my wrist, whilst another was placed firmly back on my forehead and I gasped. In a gentler voice he continued, "You really must stay awake old chap. Try and concentrate on my voice."

He launched into a story, about one of his cases, asking me questions every so often and laughing loudly at my rather muddled answers. Truth be told I concentrated more on his icy fingers than his words. Perhaps if I hadn't I would have noticed what nonsense he was speaking, the edge of panic to his rambling words.

But I took note only of the tight hold his icy hand had on my own, and let that anchor me to consciousness until help arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dec 2nd:**

_From cjnwriter - A character buys something that another character thinks that they don't need_

It was pretty, I couldn't deny. A light blue, floaty thing - a few ribbons here and there but nowhere near enough to look gaudy. Something similar to one my own wife had worn now and again. Charming, I supposed, though I couldn't pretend I had experience with this sort of thing... to my eye, certainly, it looked rather nice.

But what on earth did _Holmes _want with a dress?!

* * *

_**A/N**_ _Hello! Now that the holiday is here I am planning on filling these prompts in all of the breaks I have put in my beautifully constructed revision timetable (I gave myself today off, so that I could make a revision timetable). _**  
**

_Well done to everyone taking part this year, please PM me if I haven't added your story to the community yet. Also I just wanted to say if there was anyone who I forgot to PM who participated last year - please forgive me. It wasn't intentional, I just sent out random PMs to anyone I could think of at the time. I was quite busy with various exams, so I wasn't as thorough in asking people if they wanted to join. Anyone can PM and ask to be part of this challenge - even late. So yeah. Sorry again.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Dec 3rd:**

_From I'm Nova_ _- Christmas decorations are highly flammable_

I came to slowly, my mind fuddled and my eyes streaming from... smoke? Peering through the grey haze, I recognised the living room of 221B. What the devil had happened?!

"_Watson?_" I rasped. My head was pounding, perhaps from smoke inhalation. I coughed, and covered my mouth with a hand, before trying again, louder. "Watson?!"

I heard something creak above me and the next I knew I was being barreled forward by something. Someone?

_Thump! _

The Christmas tree, burning lazily, had fallen directly where I had previously been sprawled. I looked back to my saviour.

"Mrs Hudson!" I gasped, as the familiar features blurred into focus. She may have smiled - it was difficult to tell with the material tied around her face, but her eyes certainly lit up a little. She thrust a damp tea towel at me and I tied it around my face gratefully, taking a few clean breaths before asking, "Where is Watson?"

Her eyes frowned at me, and she jabbed a finger upward - I felt my eyes widen.

"His bedroom?!"

* * *

I must say it was rather alarming to be woken up by a jolt below me and the smell of burning. For a moment I thought I was dreaming - but then the lower half of my bed was sinking through the floorboards and I decided it was time to wake up.

I flung myself out of bed just in time - with a creak of wrenching wood followed by an almighty crash the bed plummeted through the floor. Which left me rather shocked, to say the least. Thoroughly confused I peered down through the hole the bed had left.

"Holmes? Mrs Hudson?"

* * *

When I realised it was Watson's bed which had fallen through the weakened floor, I had feared the worst. The sight of him - looking tired and confused but healthy enough - was enough to warrant a sigh of relief.

"Holmes what on earth has happened?!" he asked, taking in the burning room with Mrs Hudson and I in the centre. Some of the smoke was already dissipating upward into his bedroom, making it a tad easier to see.

I frowned. What _had _happened? Surely not an attack... too messy a way to do it, and the fire was hardly an efficient way of finishing someone off... I looked to the tree which was roaring away quite happily. Before it had toppled over it would have stood directly beside- I felt my face go pale.

My chemistry table.

* * *

At my question Holmes's eyes darted around the room clearly trying to make sense of the fire. They alighted on his chemistry table and he blanched. I took in the shattered glass scattered everywhere and reached the same conclusion which he clearly had.

Holmes must have left one of his bunsen burners on.

"Holmes, you idiot! Get out of there!"

* * *

I winced at Watson's insult, though it was rather well deserved. There was little time to dwell on my foolish mistake however - flames were licking at my chemistry table, and I knew too well what could happen if the chemicals housed there were to be set alight.

I pulled Mrs Hudson to the living room door, and wrenched it open - another foolish idea, for as I did so the flames filling the room behind us reared up, fuelled by the oxygen I had allowed in, and all at once the chemical table was engulfed.

I shoved Mrs Hudson through the door. Just as I was closing it behind me, a small explosion rang out - and in the very moment before I had wrenched it shut, the living room ceiling had begun to collapse.

* * *

I had perceived the same danger from Holmes's chemistry table as he had and I was sprinting to my bedroom door even as he and Mrs Hudson were exiting the living room, cursing him for a fool (something I tend to have very little opportunity to do).

The smoke from the room below was being drawn upward through my disintegrated floorboards, and it made sight as well as breathing far more difficult than it had been before. I was scrabbling for the door handle, trying to take in as little air as possible, when the heat from below suddenly intensified. I glanced back, wincing against the bright light of the flames which had erupted into my bedroom within the few seconds I had been turned away. The flames were eating away at the floor, toward where I was standing. Forgoing the use of the handle, I went to ram my shoulder against the door, but where there should have been the smack of my arm against wood, instead there was an almighty explosion.

An instant later, I was falling.

* * *

Mrs Hudson was pulling me down the stairs before I had gathered my thoughts sufficiently to refuse. We couldn't leave - not without Watson. But Watson had been in his room when the living room ceiling-

"_Oof!" _

Winded, I remained on the floor for a moment, pinned against a wall by...

"_Watson?_"

He was sooty, mildly burnt and coughing, but he smiled feebly before offering an apologetic. "Hello Holmes, Sorry for er- landing on you." He looked up the staircase which led to his room, forehead creased. "I suppose I must have fallen down the stairs..."

He stood up, apparently too quickly, for he teetered a little on his feet and was forced to prop himself against the wall with one arm. Mrs Hudson grasped him by the other.

"Dr Watson, although I am immensely grateful to see that you are well, I suggest we make a hasty exit, before the fire spreads any further. Or another one of Mr Holmes's experiments starts to react," she added in an undertone, casting me a dark glare.

I gave an inward sigh. There would be hell to pay for this later. For now though, I went to take Watson's other arm, and the three of us beat a hasty retreat down the stairs and through the front door.

* * *

Holme looked rather concerned, as I slid slowly to pavement, forced to sit due to combination of coughing and the loud ringing in one of my ears, left as souvenir from the chemical explosion. Mrs Hudson, above me, gave him a stern talking to. Within her reprimands she made it quite clear that all damages would be paid for from his pocket, and no one else's.

The fire brigade arrived, along with the police. In response to Lestrade's question whether the fire had been as a result of an attack, I began laughing quite uncontrollably.

"Is, er- is he alright Mr Holmes?" he asked my flatmate quietly, perhaps thinking I had been concussed during my explosive fall. "Need a doctor, does he?"

"Er, yes," Holmes said quickly. "I should um- get him to doctor. Your questions shall have to wait Lestrade."

This sent me into a fresh round of laughter which had tears streaming from my eyes. As Holmes hurried me away from the rather confused Inspector, I knew I had the perfect blackmailing material.

* * *

_**A/N **Well that got out of hand, but still seemed rushed, huh? Ah well. I just wanted 221B to blow up as a result of Holmes being idiotic. Which I suppose in itself is rather OOC... Maybe he was really tired or something._

_As I am now._

_Goodnight!_

_(And please review)._


	4. Chapter 4

**Dec 4:**

_From Galaxy1001D - __Write a story where Sherlock is visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future._

_**At a Scotland Yard Party:**_

"Wooooooooooooo!"

"Hello Lestrade. What are you supposed to be then?"

"I am not Lestrade! I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!"

"But it's... Halloween?"

"PRECISELY..! WOOOOOO!"

_**Later, in a pub:**_

"So how did your costume go Lestrade?"

"Not well. Mr Holmes started laughing."

"Oh... why?"

"Well when I disappeared he was able to tell that I was just hiding behind a sofa."

"Wow... they don't call him the world's greatest detective for nothing!"

* * *

_**A/N **__Okay, okay, I KNOW it didn't fill the prompt, but I wrote a whole Sherlock Holmes style Christmas Carol story the year before last for this challenge. So instead you get this beautiful piece of- um. This._

_WOOOOOOOOO!_

_*Disappears behind sofa*_


	5. Chapter 5

**Dec 5:**

_From Spockologist - Holmes reads the Bible_

"You- you're a- a witch!" the man in front of us screeched, his hands, and the gun grasped between them, shaking. My friend regarded the firearm aimed at him quite coolly.

"Oh? And what gives you that impression?"

The man's eyes darted between us both, crazed in their intensity. "Y- you know things. _How? _How did you know that I-?"

"That you murdered her?" Holmes supplied, his voice hard and unforgiving. "Slipped her a sleeping draught, and waited until she was just conscious enough to know what was happening, before you shot her through the head?"

"YOU CAN'T KNOW THAT!"

"Holmes," I murmured warningly, my eyes not wavering from the grip the man had on the gun. It dropped a fraction, as he swung around to face me, his gaze almost pleading.

"H- how? How does he know that?" He stared at me for a moment, but I said nothing. "Witchcraft," he muttered after a moment, and re-aimed the gun at Holmes. "The devil's in you..."

"No more than in you," he said. "Less so, if my deductions are right. But here-" he walked over to the man's bedside table. "Let me prove it to you."

"Holmes what are you doing?" I asked, still eyeing the murderer warily, and so unable to see what it was Holmes had picked up.

"Merely proving a point Watson," he answered, still out of my vision. "Perhaps sir," he addressed the man, "this will help to convince you that I am not one with the devil?" He cleared his throat, and spoke,

""Because thou servest not the Lord thy God with joyfulness, and with gladness of heart, for the abundance of all _things_;Therefore shalt thou serve thine enemies which the Lord shall send against thee, in hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and in want of all _things_: and he shall put a yoke of iron upon thy neck, until he have destroyed thee.""

"Holmes, what-"

"It is a simple test, for this gentleman's satisfaction Watson," Holmes answered me. "Were I a witch, were the devil in me, then I should not be able to read from the Bible, should I sir?"

The man before us did not respond - Holmes continued to read, his voice hard with a tightly controlled anger.

""The Lord shall bring a nation against thee from far, from the end of the earth, _as swift_ as the eagle flieth; a nation whose tongue thou shalt not understand;A nation of fierce countenance, which shall not regard the person of the old, nor shew favour to the young:And he shall eat the fruit of thy cattle, and the fruit of thy land, until thou be destroyed-""

"_No,_" the murderer whispered, his eyes filling with tears, "No I- I didn't mean to-"

But Holmes did not listen to the man's begging - merely turned to another section of the Bible with a quick flurry of pages.

""And God spake all these words, saying, I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage."" Holmes paused. He closed the Bible, placed it very deliberately where he had found it, and turned back to address the man. "Do you recall the sixth commandment, sir?"

"Thou shal- thou shalt not-" the man swallowed convulsively, and the gun fell from his hands. He raised them to his face, sobbing. "God forgive me... _God forgive me..._"

Holmes picked up the gun slowly, and turned it over in his hands for a moment, expression blank.

"Thou shalt not kill," he murmured, before placing it on top of the Bible.

* * *

**_A/N _**_Gosh. That was intense. Sorry! Just I was thinking about the Bible-reading-witch test they used to do in the olden days, and how Holmes's deductions seem a little magic. Then I threw in random man who is crazy and a murderer. Huh._**  
**

_Review?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Dec 6:**

_From Galaxy1001D - Write a Sherlock Holmes story where Holmes is a woman named Shirley and pretends to have a brother named Sherlock who 'just happens to be out at the moment'. Watson has been keeping up the ruse with his novels._

"Mr Holmes! Mr Hol- ah. My apologies Miss Holmes. Is your brother in?"

"I'm afraid he just happens to be out at the moment - perhaps I might be of assistance?"

"Oh no, this isn't the sort of business for a woman to be dealing with."

"Murder is a horrible thing."

"Yes it- hold on. How did you know it was murder..?"

"Well it's a little obvious isn't it? The speckled stains on your shirt sleeves indicate..."

* * *

"Well Watson I think I've just about convinced those fools at the Yard that a woman is just as capable of detective work as a man."

"I see - time for my next publication, you think?"

"Yes, and do try to give me - or perhaps I should say my brother - a dramatic death, won't you?"

"Certainly, certainly, as dramatic as you like. An evil arch nemesis perhaps... both of you drowned somehow, so as to explain the missing bodies... I'll come up with something."

"Excellent."


	7. Chapter 7

**Dec 7:**

_From Madam'zelleGiry - Watson's taste in literature sparks off a debate with Lestrade_

"Those detective books don't give any kind of indication for real detective work," Lestrade said dismissively. "Dupin wouldn't know paperwork if it came and bit him in the backside."

Watson frowned. "You've got more in common with Holmes than you think you do."

"Excuse me?!"

"Well he doesn't think much of Poe's idea of a detective either." Watson looked suddenly thoughtful. "Perhaps it is time for some new detective stories..."

* * *

**_A/N _**_Review?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Dec 8:**

_From mrspencil and Ennui Enigma - a fic including the words "startle" "umbrella" and "circus"._

The fortune teller was swathed in shawls and scarves. Her piercing grey eyes regarded all who entered her tent, waiting for one particular visitor.

"How long have you been with the circus, then?" one man - could he be the one? - asked nervously as he entered. "Everyone's saying how good you are."

"Not long," was her husky answer, and she began to shuffle her cards quickly. "You, however, have visited the circus before, have you not?"

"Why yes I have!" the man exclaimed in surprise. "But how the devil did you-"

"Your umbrella," was her enigmatic answer, and she swiftly dealt the cards face down on the table. "Your fortune, sir."

The man had glanced down at his umbrella in surprise. "What do you mean-"

"The handle has been recently repaired." She turned a card over. "The three of diamonds. An unfortunate omen sir - unfaithfulness. Trouble with your love life, perhaps?"

"M- my love life?" he smiled nervously. "No, you're mistaken. Perhaps your reputation exceeds your talents..?"

She didn't answer - merely turned over the next card. "The ten of diamonds."

"Oh? And I suppose that means I'll meet the woman of my dreams next Sunday then?"

"It means guilt, sir. Perhaps for your unfaithfulness - perhaps something more serious."

"Such as?"

"Murder."

The word was enough to startle him into looking up into her face, searching it for something. She looked back, revealing nothing, and he mentally shook himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said brusquely. "I was hardly expecting anything but nonsense, but I had hoped it would be a tad more entertaining than this!"

"My apologies, sir. I can relate only what the cards tell me." With that, she turned the last one over. "The king of spades. Your past is catching up with you." She looked up, and her husky hardened a little. "You should have run when you had the chance."

"What do you-?"

But behind him, the tent flap opened, and another man stood there, aiming a gun at him.

"Well done Watson," the gypsy woman said - only her voice had transformed into a far

more masculine tone. "Your timing is impeccable."

He gasped as she ripped off her shawl - to reveal the well known features of Sherlock Holmes.

"I am afraid sir, that you are under arrest."

* * *

**_A/N _**_Merry Christmas everyone. Trying to catch up with these._


	9. Chapter 9

**Dec 9:**

_From KnightFury - hot chocolate_

They were late back on Christmas Eve. Mr Holmes had, I suspected, been on some trail or other, and Dr Watson had, of course, followed him along it. When they came back shivering and soaked through I sent them up with strict instructions to change and go into the living room, where I had already gotten a fire ready.

I was going to bring them up some tea, when I remembered the very special treat I had purchased for Christmas. Smiling, I prepared the hot chocolate.

It was used a day earlier than I had thought it would be, but the warm Christmas wishes my tenants imparted to me were well worth it.

* * *

_**A/N **Review please?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Dec 10:**

_From cjnwriter - A bloody handprint, lipstick, and a pair of pliers are discovered at the scene of a crime._

"It's fake," Mr Holmes declared, and swept from the crime scene, which he had only entered thirty seconds ago. Dr Watson, trailing behind him, looked rather startled.

"Holmes?"

From the door there came a very loud sigh. Reluctantly, Holmes re-entered.

"That handprint is too clean," he said, pointing to the bloody outline on the wall. "You would expect some sort of smudging as sign of a struggle. There's nowhere near the right amount of blood surrounding it either."

"Then there's the lipstick," he went on, striding over and picking it up. "The ransom note, written beside the handprint with this woman's lipstick." He turned it over and removed the lid. "Her lipstick, as a matter of fact. Writing the note on the wall will have used up all of it - unusual, don't you think? Lucky that she had it on her - lucky that it was brand new."

"You mean she faked her own kidnapping?" I asked. "But why?!"

Holmes let loose another exasperated sigh. "Please Lestrade, there are any number of reasons. Perhaps she's seeing another man, do some brainwork yourself for once. Although-" he added thoughtfully, "given that the pliers used to cut through the fence of the manor have the initials of her husband carved into them, it seems more likely that they're hoping the police will provide the ransom, given the failing finances of their estate."

* * *

_**A/N **These criminals are really stupid, okay. I think the reason their finances are failing is because they spend so much money getting pointless tools such as pliers engraved..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Dec 11:**

_From Madam'zelleGiry - Lestrade doesn't even want to know_

He has never seen Mr Holmes look so scared.

"Watson," he gasps, his face paling at the sight of the Doctor's prone form. In an instant he is at his side, checking for a pulse.

"Holmes..?" the Doctor murmurs groggily, "'ssat you?"

"Yes Watson. What happened?"

"Jumped," the Doctor slurs, and coughs a little before going on, "Too many..."

Before Lestrade is running to get a cab to take the Doctor to hospital, he sees the expression of icy fury which crosses Holmes's face. He doesn't want to know what the detective will do when he finds Dr Watson's attackers.

* * *

_**A/N **__Bit of Watson whump for you all - review please?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Dec 12:**

_From Galaxy1001D - Write a story where Watson hides Holmes's c***._

Watson didn't want Holmes to get into trouble. Gregson, the Inspector's doberman, and Lestrade, another dog of Scotland Yard, were already angry at him for sniffing all over their crime scene. So when the alsatian saw the mess his friend had made on the carpet at 221B, he took the blame. Mrs Hudson, a rather prim scottish terrier, who was also capable of being rather vicious at times, growled at him a little, but, as it was only a first offence, let it go rather quickly.

Watson let out a relieved sigh from his nose. He was about to hurry away from the scene of the crime (he might be willing to cover up for Holmes's mess, but there was no way he was going to clean it up), when a quiet bark from behind stopped him in his pawtracks. He turned around.

"Yes Holmes?" He asked when he saw the bloodhound, who, for once, seemed somewhat bashful.

"Thank you, for what you did," he barked gruffly and Watson's tail began to wag.

"You're most welcome."

* * *

**_A/N _**_So I decided to take the prompt literally. I also decided to assume it was the less rude c-word..._


	13. Chapter 13

**Dec 13:**

_From mrspencil and Ennui Enigma - Moriarty's school report_

**School report of:**_ James Moriarty_

**Handwriting:**_ Consistently good._

**Arithmetic:**_ Excellent. James shows a great aptitude for mathematical thinking and with perseverance he will go far in this subject._

**English:**_ His writing shows promise, but he appears to excel in factual writing over creative. He appears to see little point in making up stories, and prefers to deal in non fiction._

**History:**_ James finds it easy to remember facts and figures of historical time periods. He does not often participate in lessons, but prefers instead to observe. However he shows a keen understanding of the subject when he is forced to answer a question._

**Geography:**_ In geography James has shown a great interest in the country of Switzerland, which we have been studying in relation to our current topic - the formation of waterfalls and other natural water features._

**Art:**_ James shows little interest in this subject, and he could try harder._

**Music:**_ Although James seems less interested in this subject than some of his others, he finds it very easy to understand and recall facts about musical theory. If he applied himself further, he could become quite proficient at any instrument of his choice._

**Headmaster's comments:**_ From my reading of James's school report, he seems to excel in several subjects. His form tutor has informed me that several of the boys in his year look up to him, implying an aptitude for leadership. I hope he will take all subject comments on board, and continue to progress in his studies._


	14. Chapter 14

**Dec 14:**

_From SheWhoScrawls - Allergic reaction_

"Watson that- that- ACHOO!"

"Bless you."

"Thank you. As I was saying tha- ACHOO!"

"Bless you."

"Thank you! I wanted to say that- ACHOO, ACHOO, ACHOO!"

"Goodness Holmes, bless you! Do you think you might be allergic to something?"

"Yes your- ACHOO-"

"Bless y-"

"Your dog! I'm allergic to your d- d- ACHOO!"

"Bless you Holmes. Sorry, what was that?"

"Never - ACHOO! - mind."

"Alright. Oh, and er, bless you."

"_*Sigh, followed quickly by-*_ ACHOO!"

* * *

_**A/N **Gosh some of these are hard. You have no idea the effort I spent into trying to find out whether they knew how to deal with peanut allergies in Victorian times, before giving up and going with this instead._


	15. Chapter 15

**Dec 15:**

_From Spockologist - Bats_

Holmes was sore all over, bleeding and bruised. His captors, all twenty-five of them, were enormous, thuggish men, looming at or over six feet tall. He knew his chances were slim.

"I suggest you release him," a voice spoke from the shadows, and all the men jumped. Their surprise soon turned to amusement, however, as a man - just one, most definitely not twenty-five - emerged into the light. He was well-muscled, true, but he walked with a limp and he was nowhere near as tall as his opponents. "And run whilst you have the chance."

The men all snorted, clearly not thinking this man was likely to prove any real challenge to any of them. Holmes shook his head at their foolishness.

Five minutes later, the twenty five men were out cold. Watson, the bad-ass he was, spun his gun around his little finger before inserting it smoothly into a holster, which suited neither the place or the period this story was set, but looked pretty damn awesome. Also this made little sense, given Watson clearly hadn't used his gun - the men were out cold, not dead.

Holmes looked at his friend and smiled. He would never get Watson's limits.

* * *

_**A/N **_**So I'm already writing a Batman-Sherlock Holmes crossover, and decided instead to go with Catherine Spark's suggestion that B.A.T.S stands for - Bad Ass To Some. So yeah...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Dec 16:**

_From Madam'zelleGiry - He loves to look at candlelight..._

He lights candles now, for Christmas. He never used to. Not when he was living here at least. Perhaps it is a tradition he started with his wife. Holmes sighs.

There are too many taboos surrounding her. It is a subject he daren't broach, because he knows he wouldn't have had to, had he not left Watson at the Falls that day. So he doesn't ask why so many candles adorn the living room when Christmas arrives - merely takes pleasure in the peaceful image of his flatmate, snoring softly in his armchair, surrounded by the soft light of a dozen candles.

* * *

_**A/N **__- Just want to give a shout-out to my anonymous reviewers - sorry it's taken me so long to thank some of you!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Dec 17:**

_From Wordwielder - Gingerbread_

"This is wonderful gingerbread Mrs Hudson!" Holmes exclaimed, "I don't believe I've tasted any like this since I was a boy."

"A food from your youth, Holmes?" Watson asked, also giving Mrs Hudson a grateful smile as she left the living room. "Did your mother make them for you?"

Holmes snorted, picking up another of the biscuits. "No, Watson. Actually er- I used to make them. With Mycroft..."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up. "Indeed? Was there any reason why?"

"I used to use them as murder victims, from the cases I read about in the newspapers," Holmes replied, offhandedly. "I had to stop though. Mycroft didn't appreciate the good food going to waste."

"He did have a point," Watson pointed out, concealing a smile in his own gingerbread with appreciation. "Still nothing to stop you from doing it now, is there?"

"Hm. No I rather suppose there isn't..."

* * *

_**A/N - **__Few updates at once, in an attempt to catch up... _


	18. Chapter 18

**Dec 18:**

_From Alosha135 - too cold_

_WATSON_: All right stop! Scotland Yard listen

Holmes is back as consulting detective

Makes deductions big and mighty

Staying awake all daily and nightly

Will he ever stop? Yo-I don't know

Now turn off the gaslights and he'll go

To the scene of the crime takes evidence like a vandal

To solve a murder or clear up a scandal

_SCOTLAND YARD INSPECTORS_: Too cold, too cold

Too cold, too cold

Too cold, too cold

Too cold

_WATSON_: You should see the state of our rooms

Cocaine kills his brain like a poisonous mushroom

_HOLMES_: Deadly, now as I play a violin melody

Before I go to solve a felony

_WATSON_: Love it or leave it, you better gain way

And listen to Holmes's deductions today

Cos if there is a problem, he'll certainly solve it

_HOLMES_: With a little help from Watson's revolver

_ALL_: Ice Ice Baby, Ice Ice Baby

Ice Ice Baby, Ice Ice Baby

Needless to say, they gave Holmes the case.

* * *

_**A/N **__- Um. Yeah. I'm sorry. Go listen to _Too Cold _and just... yeah._


	19. Chapter 19

**Dec 18:**

_From cjnwriter - A character or characters react to reading one of Watson's stories upon publication._

Lestrade was surprised when Inspector Gregson sprinted into the Scotland Yard offices. He was holding something aloft and waving it enthusiastically.

"What is it?" he asked. Gregson grinned and thrust what he was holding - a copy of Beeton's Christmas Annual - into Lestrade's hands. "What do I want with this?"

"Dr Watson's written a story."

"Oh." Lestrade was still confused. Dr Watson was a nice enough fellow, certainly, but Lestrade wasn't quite friendly enough with him to follow his literary exploits. "Er... good for him?"

"It's called "A Study in Scarlet"," Gregson said, still ridiculously happy about something. "I suggest you give it a read Lestrade - it's all about his first case with Holmes. Rache and all of that."

Eyeing Gregson somewhat suspiciously - he was looking ridiculously pleased about something - he turned to the story and began to read.

The first chapter was nice enough. Then he got to the second.

_"There was one little sallow rat-faced, dark-eyed fellow who was introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade-"_

Gregson burst into laughter at the sight of his fellow inspector's stormy scowl.

"And I always thought Watson quite liked you!" he exclaimed through his chuckles.

* * *

_**A/N - **__Watson is sometimes kind of mean._


	20. Chapter 20

**Dec 20:**

_From I'm Nova - Mistletoe_

Dr Watson, kind-hearted soul that he is, invited me over for Christmas dinner at his and Mr Holmes's new lodgings. I went along on Christmas day, with a bottle of wine to give as a present and knocked on the door.

It was their landlady, Mrs Hudson, who answered.

"Merry Christmas Inspector Lestrade. Would you like- oh!"

I looked up and saw what had caused her to start in surprise. A sprig of mistletoe hanging over the door. I cleared my throat awkwardly and, knowing that it might seem offensive were I not to do so, leant in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She smiled, but didn't comment.

"Would you like to come in Inspector?"

I said that I would and stepped inside. She took my coat and went to hang it up, when a voice spoke from the top of the stairs.

"Lestrade!" It was Dr Watson, and he hurried down them to meet me, taking my hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "Nice to see you old fellow. Are you alright? You look a little pink..."

I shook my head and said it was the cold, that was all, before following him to the living room.

For the rest of that night though and a few afterwards, I couldn't get that kiss, even chaste as it had been, out of my head...

* * *

_**A/N - **__Because, although I always immediately picture Mrs Hudson as a white-haired older woman, sometimes I think it would be cool if she was a very young widow. And also because Watson was mean to Lestrade before._


	21. Chapter 21

**Dec 21:**

_From SheWhoScrawls - Mycroft appeals to Scotland Yard for help when a baby dragon is anonymously delivered to him in the mail._

Scotland Yard had no clue where to start with this mystery. And, as was usual when this was the case, they went to the one man who might be able to help.

"That's odd," Holmes commented, looking out of the living room window and seeing Inspector Lestrade approach their front door. "Very odd..."

"What is?" Watson asked from his writing desk.

"Lestrade appears to be suffering from burns."

"Really?" Watson looked up from what he was writing. "How did he do that?"

"I don't know," Holmes replied, and went to grab a pipe before settling himself into his armchair. "How very refreshing."

* * *

The story Lestrade related was a strange one indeed.

"And you say it was my brother this... creature was sent to?" Holmes asked.

Lestrade nodded. "Yes. Arrived in the post apparently, so he brought it to our attention."

"Hm." Holmes's lips quirked into a brief smile. "How intriguing. I rather think I'd like to see the beast Lestrade."

"It sounds a fascinating creature to study," Watson commented. "Like something out of a fairytale!"

The Inspector's expression darkened. "I'd rather it had stayed in the fairytale Doctor. The police surgeons have been treating burns for days now. And the fire brigade have had to come twice! It's a wonder the Yard hasn't burnt down completely..."

* * *

"He- he seems to like you, Doctor." Hopkins - who had been nominated amongst the Yard Inspectors as chief dragon-sitter - was stunned. The creature wasn't growling, biting or breathing fire. In fact the sound it was currently emitting sounded almost like... purring?

"She," said the Doctor, absently scratching at one of the scales running down the dragon's spine, much as you might scratch a dog behind the ears. "And I'm afraid her gender is all I can reveal of her - I've never seen anything like this before!"

"Neither have I," Holmes muttered, looking a little sour. Although it had taken to Watson quite readily, it had reacted to Holmes much the same as it had the rest of the Yard - with disdain and much fire-breathing. "In fact I've never heard of a creature, bird, mammal or reptile, (and this could very well be a mixture of all three) with six limbs. Though I do wonder if the... _creature_ can employ the use of its wings..."

"Really Holmes, we may as well start calling it a dragon," said Watson.

Holmes sniffed disdainfully. "I refuse to indulge in such irrationality."

The dragon let loose a loud and sudden growl, spitting a few sparks in Holmes's direction. He jumped, and cleared his throat.

"Perhaps in this case, however, I might make an exception."

* * *

_**A/N - **__I'm leaving it there but the idea of Holmes and Watson owning a dragon has really grown on me, so maybe there'll be a follow up some day..._

_LET'S SEE HOW MANY OF THESE I CAN DO BEFORE THE NEW YEAR._


	22. Chapter 22

**Dec 22:**

_From I'm Nova - From a different point of view_

Watson underrates his abilities. Perhaps he takes my successes when he is not present as proof that his presence in our cases is not vital. He doesn't realise how much more I enjoy working with him on a case, than embarking upon one alone.

I say that through no sentimentality. It is simply a fact. He writes himself as a shadow of the man I know and I wonder if that is truly how he sees himself.

I do not tell him of course. He would only see it as a critique of his stories.


	23. Chapter 23

**Dec 23:**

_From mrspencil and Ennui Enigma - Mycroft does something unexpected_

When the doorbell rang John hurried off to answer it, smiling. The friends from his club and Scotland Yard were already here, as were all of my guests. Which left only...

"Mr Holmes!" he exclaimed. A few of the inspectors glanced at each other quizzically and I knew why. Though my husband and his old flatmate had never gotten past calling each other by their surnames, I had never once heard John talk to his old friend as "Mr".

But it was a voice unknown to me which answered. "Good evening Doctor. May we come in?"

"Yes certainly you- we? Oh! My apologies Holmes! I er, hadn't seen you there."

"I took the liberty of picking my brother up on the way," the unfamiliar voice answered. "I think he had almost forgotten it was Christmas Eve."

A few moments later and John re-entered, a rather large man following and, trailing behind him, Mr Sherlock Holmes. His face was thunderous.

"Ah, you must be Mrs Watson," the large man greeted me, kissing my hand courteously. "Mr Mycroft Holmes, very pleased to make your acquaintance. Your husband invited me."

"You're Mr Holmes's brother?"

"Indeed," he replied, choosing to ignore the curious glances of the Yarders, all trying to get the measure of the famous detective's previously unknown brother. "Truthfully I had not planned on coming - parties are not something I often indulge in. But when I realised that my brother would also not be attending, I felt something should be done. Look," he added in an undertone, and pointed to where my husband stood talking with Mr Holmes.

"Sherlock does have a tendency to sulk at times," he continued, as John began to laugh at something his friend and said, "but I feel he does belong with friends at Christmas-time."

"I quite agree, sir," I answered, thinking that perhaps Mr Mycroft Holmes was even smarter than his esteemed brother.

* * *

_**A/N -**_


	24. Chapter 24

**Dec 24:**

_From SheWhoScrawls - Silent Night in Baker Street_

It was silent. All was calm, quiet... Mrs Hudson was really quite unnerved by it. She lay awake in bed, unable to get to sleep. No explosions, no creaking from the upstairs room. It simply wasn't what she was used to.

A thump at the door, quickly stifled, and followed by a hushed conversation.

"Holmes don't knock, use your key for heaven's sake!"

"I don't have it, and why shouldn't I knock?!"

"Mrs Hudson is asleep dear fellow and I really don't think she'll appreciate-"

"Good evening Mrs Hudson!" She had pulled on her dressing gown straight away, and gone to answer the door. Mr Holmes gave his most charming smile. "I hope we didn't disturb you..?"

"Not at all Mr Holmes," she replied, standing aside to let them in. "And thank you for your concern. Or rather, for relaying Dr Watson's concern..."

They hurried in, Holmes looking a little guilty, and she smiled to herself.

Much better.

* * *

_**A/N - **__Again, tell me if there are mistakes which there will be cos I'm doing these so quickly._


	25. Chapter 25

**Dec 25:**

_From Book girl fan - Christmas with the Irregulars_

The Irregulars were all delighted to spend Christmas Eve at 221B. They spread themselves out in the different rooms, relishing the warmth and comfort they so rarely got to experience.

Of course their excitement over the sleeping arrangements was nothing compared to when they woke up the following day and saw the enormous pile of presents which had been left beneath the tree. Mr Holmes informed them solemnly that, judging from the sooty footprints trailing from the fireplace to the tree and back again, it must have been St Nick himself who had delivered them.

"For what other man would enter by chimney?" he pointed out, and they all nodded their agreement at his deductive line of reasoning, before rushing to find the present with their name written on it.

Holmes decided not point out that St Nick's handwriting bore very many close similarities to Dr Watson's...


	26. Chapter 26

**Dec 26:**

_From Alosha135 - 5 word prompt: beautiful, ice, dead, small, lonely_

"What beautiful countryside," Watson commented as he looked out at the hills rolling past the train window. "A little lonely though..."

"That's why I invited you," Holmes replied. "Though I do enjoy Sussex, Watson, it can be dreadfully dull sometimes. Although..."

"Yes?"

"A man turned up dead recently."

Watson's raised an eyebrow. "How terrible."

"Yes, yes of course it is," Holmes agreed hastily. Then, "The Police say he drowned under the ice."

"Indeed. And what do you say?"

"That they're wrong, as usual. I don't suppose you'd care to-?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Holmes."


	27. Chapter 27

**Dec 27:**

_From Wordwielder - Holmes has an unusual dream_

It was odd, this place. People milling around in some of the most inappropriate clothing, all the buildings square and concrete, bright lights and peculiar shops. Suddenly his name jumped out at him and he stopped to stare at it trundling past on a long vehicle which moved without the assistance of horses. A long picture of a man, staring out at the world atop of his name. Beside that picture, Holmes saw another - but this with Watson's name and a different man staring out. Then the vehicle was gone and Holmes decided to keep walking.

He found himself in a bookshop, and saw an enormous block of shelves dedicated to "Detective Fiction". He was wondering who on earth Agatha Christie was, when his eye was caught again by his own name.

An entire shelf of books, all with his name. An entire shelf, dedicated to the stories Watson had written of their cases together, except-Holmes leant further forward.

_Arthur Conan Doyle?_

Shaking his head he ran back outside to the street and saw his flat.

"Ah ha!" he cried and sprinted to it, but came to a sudden halt as he read the sign above the door.

_Sherlock Holmes Museum._

* * *

With a jolt Holmes woke up. He glanced around his still-dark bedroom, utterly confused.

"How very strange," he murmured, and promptly fell back to sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Dec 28:**

_From Spockologist - Mycroft and Holmes fight over something_

"It's your responsibility Mycroft!"

"Not any longer Sherlock. I gave it to Scotland Yard and it became their responsibility. Now you have taken it from them and it is your responsibility. How is the dragon anyway?"

"Oh for Heaven's sake! I didn't take it, Watson did - and the dragon is just as irritating and violent as it was at the Yard. If I had my way I'd dissect the little beast to try and figure out just what it really is."

"Dear dear Sherlock... you really are wound up aren't you? I thought you'd appreciate the challenge."

"Mycroft what am I to do if this beast grows bigger? Because it is growing you know."

"It has wings. Perhaps you can get it to fly to some remote region..."

"I doubt it would leave Watson alone for that long. It's hard enough getting it to stay in the house when he goes on his rounds."

"Well then it seems you're stuck with it Sherlock. Good luck."

* * *

**_A/N - _**_Continuation from 21st Dec response. _


	29. Chapter 29

**Dec 29:**

_From SheWhoScrawls - Angels_

"You mean you've never made a snow angel before?" Watson asked, aghast at this latest revelation. "Not even as a child?"

"I don't believe so," Holmes said, nonplussed. "I made snowmen, if that's at all similar..?"

Watson chuckled. "Not quite, Holmes." Then he glanced outside at the falling snow. A mischievous light entered into his eyes. "Hmm... Perhaps it is time for you to give it a try..."


	30. Chapter 30

**Dec 30:**

_From KnightFury - a late parcel arrives for Watson in the post, marked "Do Not Open Until Christmas"_

"Package for you Doctor Watson," one of the soldiers - _Bradley_, Watson thinks to himself - says to him. His arms are full of letters and parcels and, for a moment, Watson considers offering to help him. Then he remembers how weary he is, after treating so many patients, and decides against it.

"Thank you," he says, taking his package from Bradley. There's a message in red scrawled across the paper.

**DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS**

"Small chance of that," he mutters. Christmas was several days ago. He begins to unwrap the parcel and his smile widens as he reads the first line of the note inside, written in a familiar hand.

_My dear Watson,_

_I trust that you have followed my instructions faithfully, as always, and have not opened this parcel until Christmas. The simple reason being that it contains your Christmas presents. Not much, I'm afraid, but I trust you'll appreciate it all the same. As many jars of honey that I could fit in, and some knitted socks from Mrs Hudson._

_I hope this finds you well. I am telephoning Mycroft every day in order to gain information on the whereabouts of your particular troop, which as you might imagine, is driving him quite mad. All the same, irrational as it might seem, it reassures me somewhat in between your letters. Stay safe old fellow. And Merry Christmas!_

_All the best,_

_Sherlock Holmes_


	31. Chapter 31

**Dec 31:**

_From KnightFury - Holmes' only wish is to see in the New Year with Watson, but a pressing case and the doctor's practice seem determined to keep them apart. Does he get his wish?_

The drunken singing from the neighbouring pub was beginning to grind on my nerves. There was still half an hour to go until midnight and at that moment I couldn't have cared less about the new year.

"Doc-Doctor Watson!" the woman I was kneeling beside gasped, "I- I think- I think this might be it. I think it's coming!"

"I know," I soothed her. "Just keep pushing Mrs Vance."

There had been no time to fetch a midwife. This baby was coming now - I just prayed it would be an uncomplicated birth.

_Knock, knock, knock!_

"Could you get that?" I asked Mr Vance, and he scurried off, clearly eager to be doing something useful. "Deep breaths now Mrs Vance..."

"Excuse me, is Doctor Watson in there?"

"Holmes?!" I called out, incredulous. "What are you doing here?!"

"Watson!" he hurried into the room and stopped short at the sight of the woman lying on the floor. "Oh my..."

"Who're yew?!" Mrs Vance demanded, between heavy gasps and breathing, as her husband entered behind my flatmate. "Eddie, who is 'e?"

"I dunno Maggie-"

"He's a friend of mine," I explained. "Holmes, what are you doing here?" I asked in an undertone, "I thought you were on that case for Mycroft?"

"Well I was. And then er... well I wasn't. That is I stopped. Temporarily." Holmes cleared his throat awkwardly. "It is New Year's Eve after all."

I opened my mouth, about to ask more, when Mrs Vance began to shriek in pain, her entire body tensing and juddering.

"What's wrong wiv 'er?" her husband demanded, panic in his eyes.

"The baby is coming, quickly," I said. I already had hot towels and water. "Mr Vance if you could hold your wife's hand. And Holmes..." I thought for a moment. "Go and tell next door to shut up, will you?"

"Er-"

"_Now_, Holmes."

* * *

Mr and Mrs Vance cooed over their newborn son. Big Ben was ringing out the new year, and the people in the pub next door were singing a raucous rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

"I did try to get them to quieten down," Holmes said defensively and I laughed. Holmes glanced to the family on the floor and back to me. "Perhaps we should go outside Watson?"

"Excellent idea."

We said our farewells to Mr and Mrs Vance though they were, quite understandably, rather preoccupied.

"An interesting way of celebrating the New Year," Holmes remarked once we were outside, his eyes twinkling. "Not what I'd been expecting at all."

"Well I hadn't much counted on it either," I said. "What happened to Mycroft's case? I thought it was of national importance?"

"It was," Holmes replied off-handedly. "But as I said, it was New Year's Eve."

"You never set much store by New Year celebrations before," I enquired. "Something you picked up from your travels on the continent?"

He shook his head. "Something I learnt to appreciate. There is nothing quite like the ringing of Big Ben Watson... nothing to match it in the entire world." He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed by this show of sentiment. "I didn't realise until Mrs Hudson told me you had left for your rounds earlier tonight that you would be working."

"I didn't think to mention it," I said apologetically. "Sorry Holmes. If I'd have known it meant so much-"

"It's alright Watson," he said, looking up at the night sky."We made it in the end, as unconventional as it may have been. Happy New Year my dear fellow. Here's to a better one than the last three."

* * *

_**A/N - **__Well there we have it. Thank you to everyone who read this, reviewed this, enjoyed this and anything else - I hope you enjoyed it. Also a massive thanks to everyone who took part/is still taking part this year! Anyone interested in doing it next year just drop me a PM whenever (literally from now to the end of November this year)._

_And finally - HAPPY NEW YEAR!_


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